Hamlet’s Resolve—Competing Interpretations
from Hamlet
Sam Redmond
William Shakespeare is a master of words. His work is layered, which
is one reason it is so revered: with every reading, an audience can extract progressively more meaning, since one can draw meaning not
only from the literal text—what each character says—but also from the
techniques and syntax—how each character’s speech is phrased. In this
excerpt from Hamlet, the meanings associated with what Hamlet says
and how Hamlet says it are polar opposites.
Hamlet’s soliloquy in Act 2, Scene 2, lines 487-526, can be read either
as him spurring himself to action, despite (and because of) previously
failing to do so, or as proof that he is incapable of change and doomed
to be a passive prince unable to motivate himself to action without an
external force. The interpretation depends on whether one focuses on
what Hamlet says or how he says it. Shakespeare presents these contrasting interpretations in order to further the reader’s understanding
of Hamlet’s conflicted and intricate mental state in the context of the
entire play; rather than having one clear viewpoint, Hamlet’s mind is a
mess of conflicting perspectives and thoughts. The reader cannot extract a clear meaning out of Hamlet’s speech, further signifying that
life has no definite outcomes and that uncertainty is an essential part
of life.
One interpretation of Hamlet’s soliloquy is that it will spur him to action, as his speech contains self-deprecating hyperbole that indicates
his many attempts to convince himself to take action. His very first
line, “Now I am alone” (2.2.487), signals to the reader that what follows
will be truthful, a real insight into Hamlet’s mind, since we don’t need
to worry about him manipulating his speech to deceive other characters. Had Hamlet given this speech publicly, we’d have to doubt its
trustworthiness because his phrasing could be seen as a verbal ruse;
This paper was written for Patty Welze’s Advanced Placement
British Literature class in the fall of 2012.
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however, he is alone, and Shakespeare has chosen to use verse to reinforce the honest expression of Hamlet’s thoughts. Immediately, Hamlet
chides himself, woefully declaring himself a “rogue and peasant slave”
(2.2.488), signaling that he is upset with his current inability to take
action against Claudius. For Hamlet, who is in the social and intellectual elite, both “rogue” and “peasant” carry connotations of underprivileged, lower-class commoners, the very thought of which Hamlet
regards with disdain because the underclass do not control their own
fate and must submit to the will of more powerful people. Reflecting on
a passing troupe of actors, Hamlet claims that the real shame is that an
actor can “in a fiction, in a dream of passion… force his soul” (2.2.4901) to embody the character and scene he is asked to portray, whereas
Hamlet is incapable of assuming such potent passion even with justification. An actor can do “all for nothing” (2.2.495), a characteristic Hamlet himself fears he lacks in his planned revenge on Claudius.
Hamlet, antithetically, can do ‘none for everything’—despite having
the motivation, he cannot act. He is envious of the fact that the player
can adeptly commit to a part without any real-world experience to justify his passionate emotion. In Hamlet’s envy, we see a repressed desire
to be like the actor—to be able to suit “function” to “form” (2.2.494-5).
Hamlet even goes so far with this hypothetical track that he wonders
“what would he do / Had he the motive and the cue for passion / That
I have?” (2.2.498-500). Clearly, Hamlet recognizes at the very least the
existence of a “motive” and “cue for passion” in his case, namely the
Ghost’s prodding narrative and Claudius’ errant behavior; therefore,
Hamlet dreams about acting out his passion with as much vigor as an
actor does and truly fulfilling his “function” to kill Claudius. “With
horrid speech” on par with Claudius’ horrid deeds, Hamlet the actor
would “drown the stage with tears,” “cleave the general ear,” “make mad
the guilty,” “appall the free,” “confound the ignorant,” and “amaze indeed / The very faculties of eyes and ears” (2.2.501-504). Hamlet’s situation is so intense and so vivid, he believes, that to act it out would have
a profound effect on every category of person—from the “ignorant” to
the “guilty” and the “free.” This laundry list of potential effects further
shows that Hamlet believes his situation is severe and dire enough to
warrant a strong visceral reaction from an audience, with more than
enough motivation for any man with an ounce of boldness and valor
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to take action. This incredible setup contrasts drastically with Hamlet’s
subsequent lines, which focus on his own failures and shortcomings.
The intensity of this self-deprecation is made more potent by the powerfully intensive setup in these first 18 lines.
Hamlet signals a transition in his soliloquy with a two-syllable line—
“Yet I” (2.2.505)—indicating a shift in direction of Hamlet’s thoughts.
Continuing the theme of lower-class weakness that breeds indecision, Hamlet compares himself to a “dull and muddy-mettled rascal”
(2.2.506). It’s important to see that Hamlet thinks he has mettle, but
that it is merely muddied by his procrastination. He continues to degrade himself, calling himself a “John-a-dreams, unpregnant of my
cause” (2.2.507). A John-a-dreams is a lazy person, and again we see
Hamlet reflecting on his prior passivity. He is “unpregnant” because
he has not yet taken his plan to completion. He asks himself seven
rhetorical questions that challenge his resolve for action, such as “Am
I a coward?” (2.2.510) and “Who calls me villain?” (2.2.511). The common thread between all these questions is who motivates Hamlet to
action. The answer, of course, is no one external; for Hamlet to act,
he needs to convince himself not only that he is justified in taking action, but also that he has the inner fortitude to do so and can handle
the consequences. Hamlet continues his self-deprecation by calling
himself “pigeon-livered” (2.2.516), since he has not yet developed the
bravery to kill Claudius. However, there is a transition in his speech,
when he begins to vent wildly about Claudius’ faults. He calls the king a
“bloody, bawdy villain” (2.2.519) and a “remorseless, treacherous, lecherous, kindless villain” (2.2.520). In enumerating Claudius’ problems,
we see Hamlet trying to persuade himself to conviction. Verbal repetition often makes its way into the heart and brain, and Hamlet here is
visibly shouting in order to convince himself that Claudius is terrible
enough to warrant murder. Hamlet calls himself an “ass” (2.2.521) for
not thinking this way sooner and speaks to himself about how “brave”
(2.2.521) it would be for him to act, since he has motivation—“the
son of a dear father murdered” (2.2.522)—and opportunity, since he
is constantly around Claudius. Due to the prodding of “heaven and
hell” (2.2.523), which represents the ghost of his dead father, Hamlet
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can finally “unpack my heart with words” (2.2.524), and now that the
“a-cursing” (2.2.525) is out of the way, Hamlet can get down to action.
Hamlet ends by commanding his brain to “about” (2.2.526) and begins
working toward the final plan with his new resolve that comes from his
verbal purging. In the second part of Hamlet’s soliloquy, he speaks directly to himself confrontationally, accusing his weaker self of inaction
and pointless dawdling. This argument represents Hamlet’s desire to
be able to act. He is trying, in the best way he knows how, to convince
himself that Claudius should die. His last line of the excerpt—“About,
my brain” (2.2.526)—is the result of his thought. Here, we see Hamlet
finally taking action and using an active verb to convey his newfound
sense of purpose and motivation.
By insulting his own dignity with references to lower-class citizens and
prosecuting his purpose with biting rhetorical questions aimed at stimulating his own ambition, Hamlet can push himself to action. In this
way, the latter portion of Hamlet’s speech contrasts beautifully with
the first part, illustrating that Hamlet should be like an actor, willing to
take on any role passionately without cause, but is instead whiling his
time away procrastinating with fruitless thought. It is this realization
that signals to the reader that Hamlet has undergone a major paradigm
shift. By chiding his own inaction, highlighted by the whimsical fervor
of an actor, Hamlet can motivate himself to action. While it’s true that
he doesn’t immediately take action, this soliloquy symbolizes a radical
strengthening of Hamlet’s resolve; he must take action, or else he will
never escape the insults and derisions of inactivity. This soliloquy can
be interpreted in such a way that implies Hamlet will be successful in
spurring himself to action, because he talks himself out of his fear and
self-doubt through self-criticism.
In contrast to the previous interpretation, which is based on the literal
reading of the text, we really discover that Hamlet is doomed to inaction due to his subconscious inability to simply act when we focus on
how Hamlet speaks in this same soliloquy. In the first half of Hamlet’s
speech, he compares his will with that of an actor, yet phrases his lines
in a way that bespeaks his distress and passivity. He admires the actor’s ability to suit function to form, yet these events take place “in a
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fiction, in a dream of passion” (2.2.490) that bear no connection to
reality. He envies the actor, yet the actor’s performance takes place in a
“dream” of passion and has no tangible result, demonstrating Hamlet’s
lack of comprehension of the distinction between the world of an actor, who he aspires to emulate, and the real world. Hamlet also uses the
conditional tense, asking what “would” the player do – he “would” act
(2.2.498, 500), signifying that Hamlet’s association with the player is at
best conditional on the assumption that Hamlet has as much passion
and vigor as an actor; he does not, so Hamlet the actor simply doesn’t
exist, and Hamlet the inept prince is confined again to inaction. The
very fact that Hamlet idolizes an actor, who portrays but a façade of an
emotion, illustrates that Hamlet isn’t ready for action. He still views reality as similar to a play, and thus believes that being as passionate as an
actor could solve his problems. Ironically, Hamlet is a play, so the human playing Hamlet is actually an actor capable of forcing “his soul…
to his own conceit” (2.2.491). However, since we are suspending disbelief for the purpose of the narrative story of Hamlet, we can ignore the
effects of the literal actors on the figurative meaning of Hamlet, since
the actors merely serve as a vehicle through which the real story can
come across.
Hamlet further pins himself down to inaction by berating himself
repeatedly. As previously mentioned, he calls himself a “muddy-mettled rascal” (2.2.506)—a rather apt description—and an unmotivated
“John-a-dreams” (2.2.507). Not only does he recognize that he doesn’t
have the courage or the “mettle” to go through with killing Claudius,
but also he subconsciously compares himself to a “John-a-dreams,” reinforcing that Hamlet’s intentions are merely dreams that inevitably
will fail to be fulfilled because they are predicated on a false reality that
has no real consequences. He continuously questions his own ambition through repeated rhetorical questions and self-deprecating language, underscoring his inner failure to take action. Psychologically,
Hamlet finds the only way to face his fear is to state his weakness over
and over, but simply stating a fact does not help one to conquer it.
Hamlet even calls himself an “ass” (2.2.521) for failing to act, and then
sarcastically remarks on how he has been “most brave” (2.2.521) to sit
idly by while his “dear father” was “murdered” (2.2.522) and whose
“dear life” (2.2.509) was defeated. Towards the end of his speech, Ham-
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let recognizes the futility of his thoughts, arguing that he must “like a
whore unpack my heart with words” (2.2.524). Hamlet, our intelligent
scholar, can only cope with his difficulty by thinking about it. If that
doesn’t work, he thinks some more, unpacking his heart “with words,”
as opposed to actions, which would resolve his situation quickly. The
lower-class diction explored previously is compounded by Hamlet’s
self-identification with a “whore” and a “stallion”—a male prostitute
(2.2.526); however, in this case Hamlet’s self-degradation merely restates how low Hamlet really is.
The most telling phrase in the entire excerpt is the last three words:
“About, my brain” (2.2.526). Despite its diminutive length, this command is Hamlet’s final resolution, after these forty lines of deliberation.
Looking at the subject of Hamlet’s command—“my brain”—yields its
underlying importance. Hamlet does not say “About, my hands,” or
“About, my sword,” because he still has not fundamentally changed.
His solution to this conflict is simply, “Think some more, my mind.”
Most tellingly, he does not resolve to any particular action; rather, he
decides to contemplate action at an unspecified later time. This final
line is proof that Hamlet will not ever be able to take action due to his
own will because he will be stymied by his own indecision and overthinking. Despite all his thoughts and ideas, Hamlet cannot decide to
take action. He cannot bring himself to kill Claudius precisely because
he is a man of the mind, and not of the sword.
There is a great disparity between what Hamlet says in 2.2.487-526
and how he says it. Looking at what Hamlet literally says leads to a
resolution of action. He has motive, method, and enough madness to
act. However, if we look at how Hamlet speaks, we can see that he is
incapable of taking action. His inner drive is so accustomed to passivity that he unconsciously signals his inability to kill Claudius simply
through his natural speech.
This contrast between two interpretations of the same forty lines signifies the vast complexity of Hamlet’s mental state. Either interpretation
works. There is no definite answer in this case, since both opinions are
supportable by the text. We can generalize this concept of ambiguity to
life. Given any arbitrary event, we can spin it many ways given our per-
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spective and viewpoints. Politicians generously interpret facts in a way
that isn’t truly incorrect, but is misleading. The most revealing analogy
to the uncertainty in this passage is found in quantum mechanics, in
which certainty is literally impossible. A fundamental precept of this
branch of physics is that we cannot know everything about a particle.
In contrast to classical mechanics, in which having complete knowledge of a situation allows you to predict every future situation exactly,
in both Hamlet and in quantum mechanics, ‘knowing everything’ (in
Shakespeare’s case, seeing every word of the text), still doesn’t lead to
a definite conclusion. Life is up for interpretation, and the conflicting interpretations of Hamlet’s “Now I am alone” speech highlight this
fundamental fact of life.
Cited Passage
Now I am alone.
Oh, what a rogue and peasant slave am I!
Is it not monstrous that this player here,
But in a fiction, in a dream of passion,
490
Could force his soul so to his own conceit
That from her working all his visage wanned,
Tears in his eyes, distraction in his aspect,
A broken voice, and his whole function suiting
With forms to his conceit? And all for nothing,
495
For Hecuba!
What’s Hecuba to him or he to Hecuba
That he should weep for her? What would he do
Had he the motive and the cue for passion
That I have? He would drown the stage with tears
500
And cleave the general ear with horrid speech,
Make mad the guilty and appall the free,
Confound the ignorant, and amaze indeed
The very faculties of eyes and ears.
Yet I,505
A dull and muddy-mettled rascal, peak
Like John-a-dreams, unpregnant of my cause,
And can say nothing. No, not for a king,
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Upon whose property and most dear life
A damned defeat was made. Am I a coward?
Who calls me villain? Breaks my pate across?
Plucks off my beard and blows it in my face?
Tweaks me by the nose? Gives me the lie i’ th’ throat
As deep as to the lungs? Who does me this?
Ha, ’swounds, I should take it, for it cannot be
But I am pigeon-livered and lack gall
To make oppression bitter, or ere this
I should have fatted all the region kites
With this slave’s offal. Bloody, bawdy villain!
Remorseless, treacherous, lecherous, kindless villain!
Why, what an ass am I! This is most brave,
That I, the son of a dear father murdered,
Prompted to my revenge by heaven and hell,
Must, like a whore unpack my heart with words
And fall a-cursing like a very drab,
A stallion! Fie upon ’t, foh! About, my brain.
510
515
520
525
Works Cited
William Shakespeare, ed. A.R. Braunmuller. Hamlet (The Pelican
Shakespeare). New York: Pelican, 2001.